Five Nights at Freddy's: A Sordid History
by Smexy Maxi
Summary: A hidden history. A past best left untouched. A world fuelled by the ends. Just what is the truth behind Freddy Fazbear's? - This is a new fanfiction series set in an alternate universe to Five Nights at Freddy's, focused on mystery and suspense. By the end of the series, you will have all the puzzle pieces, but just need to put them together. I'm mostly writing this as a test
1. A Memoir

The story of my life had always been a tumultuous one. From getting kicked out of nearly every high school in the state of Utah to working dead-end minimum wage jobs that lasted a few months at the most, I'd never really gotten a foothold in life. Not that it was my fault. Not entirely anyway. Fate just had a way of showing up and beating your shins in before pissing on your body as you lay in the gutter, nursing your broken bones. But nothing I experienced in my life had ever quite come close to my previous job.

Who hasn't heard of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, right? A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, blah blah, it was possible that kids who never experienced it at least once never had a true childhood. Yeah. Looking back on it, I would be totally fine without one of those. I don't want to ever have to see that damn place again. Not after what I've seen.

It must have been around October of '92 when I got hired to "join the family", as they put it. To be completely honest, I always did find it kind of odd how lenient the interviews were. Like, I've worked at McDonald's and even those guys had a higher expectation of me than Fazbear Ent. did. Then again, basically all they wanted me for was menial shit like cleaning, so I never really questioned why they expected so little of me. It made sense at the time. Besides, for an unemployed loser like me, I was gonna take any work, no matter how weird it was. And things did get very weird.

Possibly the biggest example of that was my manager. I can't remember his name after all these years, so I'll just call him David. What I do remember though, is how bizarre he was. He was thin, like really, really thin. He looked like some kinda stick figure or something of that nature. Now, mom did always raise me to not judge people's physical appearance, and he was my boss, so I let it slide. One thing I could never let go of were his mannerisms. David liked to pull pranks on those under his command. It sounds innocent enough, but his pranks got really bizarre. Shit like hiding live mice inside the mascot suits, so when the technician boys opened them up, they found a giant furry rodent launching itself at them. Another time, he let a blood-covered knife lying on the break table for any poor bastard to find. Turns out that it was just fake, but still. Looking back on it, I have no clue why nobody reported the son of a bitch to corporate. Maybe they did, but nothing was done about it.

Regardless of how creepy our boss was, I paid it no real attention. After all, none of his "pranks" targeted me in particular, so I just kept my head down and got on with my work. It wasn't the worst paying job in the world, but I was still barely getting food on my table by taking on as much overtime as possible. They were stingy bastards, that was certain to anyone who worked for them. I think there might have been a lawsuit over that a year or two back, but it was dropped pretty sharpish.

My point is that I did my job and I worked damn hard. I don't doubt that they needed me as much as I needed them for survival. Yeah, that sounds really full of it, I know. Cleaning was not an easy task. The walls were absolutely coated with all kinds of crap (I would not be surprised if some of it was crap in the literal sense) and kids are the worst. Pizza covered the floors and the tables and the ceiling, somehow. It was a nightmare. And that's not even getting onto the animatronics…

By the time, I joined up, there were just four left. Freddy, Bonnie, Foxy and Chica. There had been more when I was a kid, but things like the Marionette had long since been scrapped, probably with good reason, now that I think about it. Not that the ones we had were great. Those servos within the mascots got gunked up easily and if an accident happened during a performance, well, David made sure somebody was for the high jump. So we had to work our asses off to keep them in prime condition, which was no cakewalk. Especially not with Foxy. I sort of really liked him as a kid, to the point where he was my favourite, but the Foxy we were stuck with constantly broke down and ceased functioning. Pirate's Cove was out of order half the time, the robot behind it spazzing out, or leaking oil.

All of these made life hard, but they weren't complete deal breakers. I would have been content to continue working there until my final month. That was when things started to go very wrong. It was July of 1995, I believe, and one day, things just were very wrong. Even by Fazbear standards, it was bizarre and even unsettling. The animatronics were glitching out big time, Bonnie even tore his own face off, which did not make the kids present very happy. Once we managed to evacuate the children from the building and shut things down, it was time to figure out what was going on. David had sat us all down in front of the stage and spent the better part of an hour lecturing us about the disaster we had gone through, the robots still malfunctioning behind us all the while. So far, so Fazbear Entertainment. But what happened next, I will never get over.

David was cut off by what sounded to be some sort of liquid leaking to the stage, with a "plip, plip, plip" sound. At first, just a few people turned to the location of the noise. I ignored it at first, but eventually, my curiosity proved to get the better of me, as gasps began to rise from my co-workers. God, I wish I hadn't seen yet.

The Freddy Fazbear animatronic was leaking from the mouth. No, not oil. Something else, something far more red. You can probably see where this was going. It streaked down his belly and dripped onto the stage, a small pool of dark red blood gathering beneath him. He continued his disorientatingly jolly laugh even as the blood fell thick and fast, his mouth wide open. David sat up from his chair quite suddenly, as it fell to the ground with a clatter. His eyes seemed to be bulging and his mouth tightened at the corners, almost like he knew exactly what was going on.

Even as the others continued with their business, Freddy's head turned to directly face David as his eyes went pitch black. His mouth opened even wider, which I hadn't thought possible. It was like the two had some sort of history together. Then, he lowered his legs, as if preparing to pounce, even as a few of my fellow workers screamed and one girl even fell into my arms crying. Clearly, she couldn't handle it, and I barely could either. The worst was still to come, however…

With a squeal that turned every flowing drop of blood in my body to ice, the giant mechanical bear launched itself at David and everything seemed to be a blur. There was a helluva lot of screaming, from both David and the others. I couldn't see much from my swaying vision and the other workers blocking most of the sight, but I did see my manager's arm sliding across the floor, a trail of blood generating underneath it. I felt sick to my very stomach that night. The poor girl I was holding vomited on my lap. It was absolute chaos.

Once I got home that night, I almost immediately quit. I didn't care about money anymore; I just couldn't get away from what I had witnessed. The years passed and I truly thought the trauma from the event would pass with time. But it never did. Things never got better. My sleep would be constantly haunted by images of blood leaking from that damn stupid bear's mouth, of David's stump where his right arm had once been. The high-pitched squeal pierced my dreams like an alarm, and there was nowhere to run. There is nowhere to run. I know what I have to do. This is the only way.

_The preceding note was found on the roof of the abandoned Hurricane mall within Hurricane county, Utah. It is believed to be the suicide note of one Richard Lewis, who jumped from the building shortly after writing it, on the 11th of November, 1998. Mr. Lewis was rushed to an ICU, where he died just a few minutes later. This note is considered a valuable piece of evidence in the case against Fazbear Entertainment and should not be allowed to fall into the hands of anyone outside of the department.__-Officer Burke, Hurricane county police department._


	2. Police Report: 03081982

**HURRICANE COUNTY UTAH** **POLICE DEPARTMENT** **INCIDENT REPORT FORM**

Case Number: 07892 Registering Officer: Gillian Burke

Date: 03/08/1982 Incident Type: Arson

Details of event:

On the 8th of March 1982, the Hurricane County Shopping Precinct caught fire, destroying major sections of the building. At approximately 13:35, a mister Jacob Santos called the emergency number to report smoke from within the First Catholic Church, located in the west wing of the centre. At 13:39, the first officer on scene, Patrolman Ben Cain, found, quote, "Plumes of smoke and flame" to be rising from the building. Cain waited for backup, and a group of officers proceeded to evacuate the centre to the best of their ability until the Hurricane Fire Department arrived at 13:47. Upon arrival, captain Lucius Thompson led the fire team into the building, in order to control the fire. At 13:56, the west wing collapsed in on itself, and the firefighters retreated, having mostly contained the fire. Within the First Catholic Church, two casualties were located. The first was Pastor Louis Henderson, and the second was Mister Henry Emily. Emily was found with a self-inflicted gunshot wound, the burnings being post-mortem. A further seven casualties were found. Four deaths occurred when the west wing collapsed, claiming the lives of four children who were within a restaurant at the time for the birthday party of one Chika Hannamura, who was one of the deceased. Furthermore, two police officers, patrolmen Dunn and Lyttle, died from third degree burns, and the final casualty, identified as eleven-year old Frederick Layton, was found behind the church, with strangle marks on his neck. Once again, the burns were post-mortem. The fire was ultimately extinguished at 14:46, and rescue teams had retrieved all of the bodies by 15:30. one survivor, a Mister Nick Philipson, stated in an interview that he saw "A well-built guy of around 5 foot six, holding a jerry can". Investigators have noted that the suspicious individual, who is currently considered to be the perpetrator, bears a physical resemblance to Henry Emily. 

Summary:

In the wake of the fire, a total of nine deaths were incurred, and four storefronts within the centre were reduced to ashes. Investigators are acting under the assumption that Henry Emily was the man behind the perceived arson, and the possibility of it leading to an insurance fraud case is in the open. It should also be noted that Emily took out a life insurance policy of seven thousand dollars. This is currently being withheld from his family until the possibility of insurance fraud can be ruled out.

Signed: Gillian Burke


	3. Awakening

He didn't… he quite understand where he was. Who he was…. What he was. None of these things were clear to him, and no answers seemed to present themselves in the immediate future. Every part of him seemed to be screaming out in pain, his mouth jammed upon to the point of running the risk of being torn apart, but nothing could be done about it.

He allowed one eye to slowly and painfully open and surveyed his environment. It was a room, clearly an old one. The walls were masked with vines and moss, the black and white checkerboard tiles that made up the floor cracked and decaying. Some tiles were outright missing, and large areas of the floor were patched with almost green puddles. The only sound audible in the room was the repetitive drip-drip-drip of water coming from an unknown part of the decrepit and fraying ceiling. The room contained no door, simply a large hole in what had once been the north wall. Or maybe it was the south, it was hard to tell in his current state.

He let his second eye peel open, mechanical grinding sounding out as he did so. Each movement was strained, a behemoth of a challenge, even for something as simple as craning one's neck. He looked to the left, then to his right. To one side of him, sat an animatronic bear suit, rotting away, without any kind of love or care paid to it. The suit may have once been yellow, but now it was much closer to resembling a green colour. Large chunks were simply missing, such as its right hand and sizable portions of its chest, simply having decayed into nothingness. Something about it seemed familiar to the man, but he just couldn't find anything, no matter how much he searched the recesses of his mind.

Appropriately acquainted with his dank, dark environment, he made his first real movement. He reached one arm out, the muscles within it screaming in pain as he did so, and found a crevice where part of the wall had crumbled away. He hooked his fingers in the small hole and started attempting to pull himself up off of the ground. There was a metallic, inhuman sound as he did so, his legs feeling a few seconds away from snapping like twigs, but eventually he was able to successfully force himself into a standing position. He leaned against the wall, heavy breathing rattling every inch of his body. What the hell was he? This could not be normal. It just couldn't be right for him to feel so much pain from such a simple task. His mind was filled with dozens of questions, but no answers. He was sure they were locked somewhere within his brain, but they were unobtainable to him.

His breathing sounding like robotic growling, he took his first steps, as unsurely and timidly as a young child, moving first his left foot forward, bringing it down on the cracked flooring with a thud, then his right. He repeated this simple pattern for around two minutes, the hole coming closer and closer. He reached out his hand and gripped the edge of the hole, fingers curling around the side and breaking off a part of the rubble. Finally, after what seemed like years, he was standing in the hole, looking out into the room on the other side.

It looked like it might have been some sort of concert stage, or maybe diner, at one point in time. A small, wooden stage sat sadly at one side of the room, the material rotting, and no doubt filled with woodworm. The red curtains that hung above it were frayed and filled with holes, a remnant from years, decades even, of regret. Moving away from the stage, tables were overturned, legs having been long since stolen. Yet more puddles coated the flooring of the room, and in the middle, a small child's tricycle sat, a grim reminder of what this place may have once been. It smelt of rot, and decay… and death.

He took another step forward, making his full appearance in the room. Only then did he realise just how tall he was, to the point where he was almost hitting the ceiling. More and more fragmented memories came to him. First, a big brown bear… what could it have been? There was a blue rabbit as well… maybe a chicken too? He remembered cheers and laughter and fire. Like burining. Then, a child. He remembered feeling fear. No, not fear. Pure terror would be a more apt way to describe it. He had done something very bad, that much he knew and he was well aware he shouldn't be describing those memories as positive, and yet… he was. It brought him a great joy to think about, even in his confused and scared state.

He made more progress, following the pattern of left foot forward, then right foot, that he had created back in his starting location, all the while taking in his surroundings. It was a victim of negligence, every wall covered in some form of overgrowth, or decay, the untouched land that was once a bringer of joy, now a desolate wasteland.

A noise caught his attention. The grinding of metallic footsteps against broken tiles, from down a hallway, the origin of the sound remaining invisible for the time being. He cranked his head around, paying no heed to the excruciating pain, to locate the epicentre of the noise. As he stared, the noise began to slowly evolve into a shadow. The shadow of a quite simply inhuman creature, impossible to discern from the mere outline of it. it juttered and shuddered as it moved, what might have been its head jerking forwards and backwards, the sound of mechanical grinding rising in a crescendo, before suddenly coming to a halt, as the being stopped and turned its head a full 90 degrees to stare at the man. The two looked at each other for ten seconds, maybe even fifteen, neither breaking the gaze, until finally the sound began to rise up again, the creature shifting its body with a robotic groan, and gradually moving towards the man. As it drew closer, its appearance became far more visible.

It was far from human, whatever it was. Its head was almost shaped like a bear, its eyes a pitch black, its nose that may have once shined, reduced to being dull and scratched. It was an odd purple colour, and one may have associated the head with a bear, but the same could not be said for the rest of the abomination. A long metal pole, surrounded by a tangle of wires and rusted strings, made up a neck directly below the head, almost as if the bear-like appendage was balanced on top. Beneath the "neck", sat a large rotund torso, a frayed bow tie at the top, and patches of the chest torn out, as if it had been bitten out, replaced by pure darkness. One arm was long, unnaturally long, to the point of being dragged along the ground as the owner walked, an oversized hook, almost like a pirate's, attached to the end. The secondary arm, this one on the left-hand side, was a mere stub by comparison, ending at the elbow with a mass of wires and curled piles of rust. The legs… well, they weren't traditional legs, more like another metallic mess that connected around the hip area to develop into three spindly legs, almost like those you would see on a spider.

Finally, the creature entered the same area as the man, the two still connecting their gaze. As they looked, the abomination's eyes suddenly seemed to burst to yellow life, almost like the eyes of a cat, baring into the man's soul, flickering like a medieval torch. He had no idea what this thing was, but in that moment, he felt a sudden bond with it, as if the two of them were somehow interconnected.

That was when he finally took a look at himself. He was in a suit of some kind, similar to the bear in the starting room, but taller, less detailed and with mounds of flesh buried beneath. It was reached down and coiled around the rusted metallic feet of the suit and came back up. What may have been a rotted heart sat in the middle of the suit's chest, left exposed by the large sections of said suit that had long since withered away. He wasn't human, whatever he was. He was much like the purple monstrosity that stood before him. He had no name, barely any memories and no face.

He brought his creaking hand to his head and felt it. as he expected, it seemed to be some sort of decaying mask. He felt an opening and pulled on it, placing his hand inside to feel the squishy, disgusting flesh that made up his head. In his still disorientated state, he only knew one thing. Be it through a twisted sense of fate, or the gods having something else in plan for him, he was supposed to be dead, but was not.

The Springtrap had made its awakening.


End file.
